


The Curious Friendship Rituals of Bruce Wayne

by engmaresh



Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Wonder Woman (2017)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Friendship, Gen, Humor, Male-Female Friendship, Not friends to friends, Somewhat uneasy allies at first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-07-15 06:59:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7212523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/engmaresh/pseuds/engmaresh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce Wayne doesn't make friends like normal people. That's okay. Diana isn't normal people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Curious Friendship Rituals of Bruce Wayne

**Author's Note:**

  * For [htbthomas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/htbthomas/gifts).



  
Diana plucks the tiny bug from the neckline of her dress. It's tiny, smaller than any she's seen before, about the size of the head of a pin. It does in fact look a bit like a pin, with a short, finely barbed needle at one end. It wouldn't have stuck to anything with a coarser weave, but for the fine material of her dress, it's just right.

There are only two people who could have gotten close enough to put that on her, and only one of them could have even thought about doing such a thing.

She has Bruce's number saved on her phone under his initials. BW. And a grumpy face. Emoticons and emoji and all these fascinating new pictograms humans have started using again still intrigue and amuse her. Besides, something about Bruce Wayne demands a couple of small, harmless jokes at his expense. He is an intense man, deeply passionate about what he does to the point of obsession. Diana can relate a bit too well to that, that drive, that hunger for justice, and it would be dangerous to get drawn in too deep with his mission. For now, a little distance is good.

He picks up after the first ring.

"Bruce."

"Diana."

"Don't play coy with me, Bruce Wayne," she says lightly as she crushes the bug between two fingers. "I suppose you meant for me to find it?"

"You're still in Gotham," he says instead, confirming her question simply by not answering it. "I'm heading to STAR Labs in Otisburg."

Diana quirks her eyes. "Is this an invitation?"

"It may be relevant to our investigation on Dr Stone's whereabouts."

He doesn't have to explain. Diana's already pulling on a hoodie (genius design, she's rarely worn a more comfortable garment), tugging the sleeves over her bracelets. Her lasso goes around her waist under the hoodie too. No sword of course, but there's a boot dagger she carries everywhere.

"Otisburg, you said? I'll see you there in ten."

 

* * *

 

Any other time, being back on Themyscira would be relief. The human world may hold its attractions, but it cannot compare to being back among her Amazon sisters, friends and lovers. Unfortunately Diana's return home is, as Americans like to put it, "for business, not pleasure".

She has only been back three days and she's just done sitting through her fifth council meeting. Understandably, Themyscira wishes to know everything about the most recent development in human world, especially in regards to Lex Luthor's abomination and the unexpected death of what may have been the planet's most powerful being.

Diana has centuries of diplomacy under her belt. She has sat through hundreds of council meetings. And yet, she cannot remember the last time she has been so skewered by her mother's gimlet eye. It makes her feel like a child again, caught trying to wield swords longer than she was tall. It makes this latest meeting somewhat more trying to sit through, and it's already a trial enough, since it concerns her involvement in the battle.

"Did you not think that to reveal yourself would be to reveal us all?" snaps Artemis, pounding her fist angrily. Her long red hair, today piled into a precarious tower atop her head, threatens to fall free of its bonds any moment. Focus, Diana rebukes herself quietly.

"It seemed unstoppable," she says out loud. "Had I not taken action, it could have destroyed both cities."

"We have no issue with your giving aid, Diana," says Hippolyta. "This is not the issue." She looks down the table to Artemis, who scowls.

"What we need to discuss are the our plans from here on out. The humans do not yet know who Diana is, but they will soon. If this Luthor has found evidence our past involvement in their wars, they may demand that of us again. What we are here to decide is the pace of our involvement. Do we wait for them to reach out, or do we send Diana as an ambassador, as we have done before in the past?"

Hippolyta looks around the table at the tired faces of her fellow council members and claps her hands. "We shall resume this meeting later today. I call for a recess. Eat, refresh yourselves. But we shall come to a resolution by today."

Chairs scrape as the women rise to their feet and drift out of the room, eager for a break after hours talking. Once she deems the room empty, Diana slumps forward in her seat. She is tired of explaining herself and her eyes are sore from the lack of sleep. Catching up with her old friend Rhia last night could have probably been pushed to later, but Rhia does know best how to deal with her after tedious council meetings.

"Diana?"

Diana starts, and looks up to find her mother standing across from her, a concerned look on her face. "Are you not going to eat? It is past noon."

Diana relaxes a little. This is her mother speaking, not Queen Hippolyta. "I will be leaving in a minute. Would you like to join me?"

A smile spreads across Hippolyta's face. "I'd very much love to, my daughter. We can leave whenever you are ready. Though there is one thing I would like to address quickly..."

"Yes, mother?"

"I have been informed that a satellite has been spotted in orbit above us. It is also attempting to triangulate your position. Are you aware of this?"

Ahhh... How does she explain this enigma of a man to her mother? The council knows of the Bat, knows that he remains an ally, but what do they know of the man? What does Diana really know of Bruce Wayne?

She decides to go straight to the point. "That would be the Bat."

Hippolyta's eyebrows climb all the way up to her bangs. "This is your ally? How can you work with the man when he attempts to spy on you?"

"He did inform me of it before I left."

Bruce hadn't been too pleased about her abrupt departure. She suspected it was because he worried she wouldn't come back. Not that he'd say as much. It seems that human masculinity has become even more fragile since the last time she'd worked with men, and besides, his worry stems far more from suspicion and pragmatism than concern. Diana is after all a valuable ally he cannot afford to lose.

He had sent a brief email. / _Pulling one of my satellites._ / She'd taken note of it, but not responded. No satellites, not even Bruce Wayne's, can penetrate Themyscira's myriad of shields and defense systems.

"Don't worry, mother," she reassures Hippolyta. "I believe this is an overture of friendship."

"Well," her mother says with some bemusement. "Things seem to have changed quite a bit. I don't recall these things being quite as complicated when I was there."

 

* * *

 

She only gets back to the States two weeks later. The moment she crosses into US airspace, her smartphone vibrates with a message.

/ _Tomorrow. Gotham Dixon Docks. 11pm._ /

 

* * *

 

She is perched on a stack of shipping containers about seven high, which puts her about 60 feet from the ground. Adrenaline humms in Diana's veins. They've been waiting here for about an hour, and ten feet below her, Bruce shifts slightly to keep his muscles from cramping up.

Diana has no such problem. She has been doing this for centuries. She was made for this, to wait still as stone, to observe and if needed, to strike.

It's been too long since she's felt like this. The battle with Luthor's abomination hadn't felt like this; that had been life or death. But this, even if it is work, is exciting.

What do they call it? Business and pleasure.

This is perfect.

Once again, she's dressed in a hoodie and comfortable jeans, bracelets on, lasso around her waist, knives in her boots. Diana of Themyscira, ambassador of the Island of Themyscira to the world will be meeting with the president of the United States of America in a week. But for now she is Diana Prince, tourist, socialite and occasional crime fighter.

At the edge of the dock, Bruno Mannheim's men gather around a ship as it slowly drifts closer. A crane moves into place, and a truck's beeping alert cuts through the night as it backs up right to the water's edge. Intergang is clearly looking to make this a quick drop, and in and out, gone before it's even sunrise.

They really shouldn't be doing this in Gotham if they want to to get away with it.

Intergang starts unloading the crates, the gang members scurrying around as they guide their shipment from the ship to a waiting forklift that will bring it to the truck. They've unloaded nine of ten crates when she feels a tap reverberate through the container she is perched on - their signal. She leaps into the air.

One of the men, a guard looking out for boat patrol lets out a high pitched yell as she lands a few feet away from him. She doesn't have to do anything; he stumbles back in surprise and walks right off the edge of the docks.

The rest get over their shock quickly enough, and haul out enough weaponry to arm a small militia. She deflects round of bullets from an assault rifle with her bracelets and takes a moment to savour the look of horror on the shooters face as she advances towards him and rips the gun out of his hands. She bends it in half and throws it back at him. The unexpected weight is enough to send him tumbling back on his ass, and he does her the favour of knocking himself out as he hits the ground.

That's two down. As planned, they are distracted, especially once they realise that ordinary weapons aren't going to take her out. More and more men start crawling out of the woodwork, and she soon has her work cut out for her, smashing heads together, ripping guns out of their hands and knocking them out. Deflecting bullets bring about a variety of interesting expressions to their faces when they notice them pinging harmlessly off her bracelets. Some opt to drop their weapons and flee. For others, a crazed look glazes over their faces and they scream louder and shoot more erratically until she puts an end to their madness with her fist.

Over the shouts and the gunshots, she hears the roar of the truck starting up. She glances over and catches the two flashes in the cabin's side mirror. The vehicle moves away, and Mannheim's men let it leave, assuming one of their own is behind the wheel.

Diana knocks another man out with a roundhouse kick and puts another in a headlock. The rest who are still standing start to scatter, believing at least some of the shipment to be safe. A couple of them fire some half-hearted rounds at her before they throw themselves into a car that swerves past in a screech of tires and the smell of burnt rubber.

The fight is over. Around her, men lie silent or groaning. Some are bleeding. Three are, despite her efforts, dead. She walks to the edge of the dock, and peers into the water to see if there are any men still floating around in the water. Either they've swum away or been picked up, because only water laps against the concrete pillars. Diana looks at the ship. It's not a big ship, and the last crate stands lonely on the deck. It is not very large, about six feet in length, four in width and four in height. She approaches it and notices it has been pried open.

Too late, Diana registers the scuff of boots behind her. She's barely turned before a wall of heat punches her in the side, sending her flying right over the edge and into the water. Between the sudden heat and the sudden cold it's a bit hard to get her bearings, but then another beam of heat stabs into the water next to her, making it bubble and boil.

She paddles away and pushes with powerful strokes towards the ship. Her daggers are still strapped to her boots, and forged by Hephaestus, they are sharp enough to cut through its hull. Hand over hand, she pulls her up and over the side, and heads to the deck where the last of Mannheim's men is standing, peering into the water and large, angular gun braced against his shoulder.

She unwinds the lasso from her hip. A flick sends his gun splashing into the water. Another lash and it wraps around his waist, reeling him in for a meeting between her fist and his face.

The detonator in her pocket is unaffected by her brief dip in Gotham's filthy sea and the charges Bruce set during her melee go off as she leaps onto a stack of containers. The mingling sirens of police and emergency services approach even as the ship and what is left of her cargo sinks into the sea.

 

* * *

 

Bruce has brought the truck and its cargo to a warehouse that probably belongs to him under shell company. Two of Mannheim's men are seated back to back in the open where he can keep a constant eye on them. Diana adds her own trussed up and groaning package to the nervous gang members and carefully deposits five of the strange new guns next to the crate Bruce is rummaging through.

"These are no ordinary weapons," she tells him.

"I noticed that myself," he growls and he turns so that she can the right ear of his cowl that has melted away down half his face, narrowly avoiding his eyes and the exposed skin of his jaw. She takes him in further and there are scorched patches on the armour of his legs and a blast had seared right through the armour on his shoulder, exposing second-degree burns.

"You should get that looked at," she says.

"So should you," he says, taking in her drenched clothes, the hole burnt into the side of her hoodie and the scorched skin it exposes, before he pries open another crate. "This is not Luthor's tech." He takes out what looks like an ordinary hand gun and points it towards the far wall. At first it doesn't do anything when he pulls the trigger, but some brief fiddling about and the discovery of a switch scorches a black patch into the wall on his second try. He doesn't try a third, since it looks like another hit would punch right through the concrete. When he turns to her there's a strange grimace on his face, like he's torn between excitement and anger.

"I don't think this is a human weapon."

Diana looks at the gun. It looks like human-make to her, but she lacks experience in what a weapon of non-human make would look like.

"Could it be Kryptonian?" she asks. "More things Luthor retrieved from the ship?"

Bruce frowns as he turns the weapon over in his hands. "The technology does not seem similar to what I have seen of Kryptonian tech." He thumbs over his shoulder at the cowering gang members.

"We could ask them." A grin, fierce and slightly cruel starts to spread across his face and one of the bound men, catching sight of it, actually whimpers.

Diana stays his fist. "I have a better idea," she says, and unwind her lasso from around her waist.

"How is that going to help us?" he growls as she loops it around the neck of the one who seems most alert.

"It compels them to tell the truth," she explains.

"How do we know it works?"

Diana tugs lightly on the noose. All the lasso really needs to work is skin contact but she figures an incentive to cooperate faster wouldn't hurt.

"Where does your mother live?" she asks.

"Don't got no mother," the man grumbles, then looks surprised, as thought he hadn't expected to part with that particular piece if information.

Diana tries a different tack. "How about siblings? You have sisters? A brother?"

The man twitches. "Br-brother." He starts panting.

"Where does he live?

"P-Puh-Park Row. Seven," The words keep tumbling out of his mouth. "Seven nine f-fuh-five. P-please, don't-- he's got nothin' to do with this."

Diana trades a glance with Bruce. He seems satisfied with the functionality of the lasso, because he crouches down next to the perp, far too close for comfort, and growls, "He'll be all right, as long as you tell us where Luthor got those guns."

 

* * *

  
They don't know anything, not even the one who had shot Diana on the ship and had to be slapped into consciousness to be fit to interrogate. Bruce exhales loudly in frustration, and reaches for his belt. In quick succession, he snaps a capsule under the noses of each of the men and they swiftly fall into unconsciousness.

"I'm going to drop them off for Gotham PD," he tells her. "Leave the guns here. Except those." He nods at a pile of weaponry sorted out from the rest. "We should have a look at them later."

We? She gives him an enquiring look.

"The car will bring you to my, uh, base of operations. I will meet you there."

He leaves, dragging the unconscious men behind him before she can comment.

 

* * *

 

If Alfred is surprised to see her climb out of the car, he doesn't show it. Instead, he wipes engine grease off his hands and offers to make her a sandwich. Diana takes him up on it, but on the condition that he join her. When Bruce returns, he finds them in the kitchen discussing Greek mythology.

"We have guest rooms," he says absently as he takes a slurp of coffee and starts disassembling his sandwich as Alfred looks on in exasperated fondness. "Stay here tonight. Easier than commuting from wherever you're staying."

Diana is surprised by the offer but accepts. After all, if they're going to start uncovering whatever scheme Luthor has planned, best to not waste any time.

"Excellent," says Bruce, and starts reassembling his sandwich exactly the way it was made. She is beginning to suspect this habit is a private joke between him and his butler.

"Alfred, cancel all my plans for the weekend."

"Including the Wayne Foundation Charity Gala to raise money for Gotham's underprivileged families?"

Bruce hmmms, then turns to her. "Diana. Interested?"

"Your gala?" she asks, a smile flitting across their lips. "Why, Mr Wayne, won't people talk?"

He smirks in return. "Only if we give them something to talk about, Ms Prince."

 

* * *

 

It was tricky, getting hold of a private airfield and it still involves quite a drive from the new Themysciran embassy but she's guaranteed no prying eyes. Except of course Bruce Wayne's but that's par for the course. At this point Diana's no longer surprised to see him waiting in the hanger's small office, reading the newspaper.

"Bruce! Wasn't this supposed to be a ridiculous idea that would take too many unnecessary risks?"

Having his words quoted back at him verbatim makes him frown. "You have a point, Diana."

"Bruce," she says, "You've said so yourself, they will be drawn into this fight whether they want to or not. Barry Allen is the closest ally within reach at the moment. He deserves to know, and better sooner than later."

"I know. Let's do this."

She takes in his suit, the wingtip shoes, the lapis lazuli cufflinks. "You're going as Bruce Wayne?"

He tucks his hands in his pockets and shrugs casually. "Why not? Wayne Biotech happens to have an opening for an analytical chemist."

"You think he will accept it?"

"No. But it may break the ice. How were you planning to spring it on him?"

"I had in mind a direct introduction." She is after all, the official Ambassador of Themyscira now. That itself would likely be enough to have Barry Allen listen to her proposal, even if he decides not to join them.

Bruce looks skeptical, like he can tell what she is thinking. "Hmmm. That doesn't always work on humans, Diana."

She links her arm through his offered elbow. "Not everything requires spy satellites, location trackers and five hours of stakeout, Mr Wayne."

"It worked out didn't it? Now where's this amazing plane of yours?"

She can't keep the smirk off her face. "It's right here."

"Diana, there is nothing--"

"Watch and see," she says, and at that moment, the camouflage drops and reveals the sleek, angular lines of her most prized possession.

Bruce gapes. He stumbles forwards, an arm outstretched like he cannot believe what e is seeing and needs to touch it for confirmation. He climbs up the ladder like it's about to disintegrate under his feet. It's only when he's settled in the cockpit and taken in all the controls when he seems to come to terms with this fusion of magic and science. Or what was that quote? Science indistinguishable from magic.

He turns to her and there is a grin on his face the likes she has never seen before. "Can I fly it?"

Diana groans. She should have seen this coming.

**Author's Note:**

> So Diana is a bit of BvS Diana, DCAU Diana and Diana from the Wonder Woman animated movie.  
> The whole time I was writing this, I had stuck in my head the intro scene of the DCAU ep "This Little Piggy" where Diana suggests dating and Bruce describes himself as a "rich kid with issues. _Lots_ of issues." I hope their banter captured some of that combination of camaraderie and awkward "so how/where do we take this friendship" vibe.


End file.
